The morning air was damp and heavy as mist rolled through the narrow cliffs of Everspring Pass. The rising sun cast golden light upon the jagged rocks and sparse pines clinging to life on the slopes. Below, the ground trembled faintly as a hundred armoured cultivators marched in formation, their silver-green banners fluttering with the crest of the Verdant Alliance.
Among them strode Taren the Vinebinder, a man in his early sixties with bark-like skin and deep-set eyes glowing with faint green light. His Spiritual General aura rippled like the surface of a lake, calm and contained, but with immeasurable depth.
Behind him, his lieutenant—a woman named Serra—whispered, "The scouts haven't reported back since last night. Could be an ambush."
Taren nodded without looking at her. "It's always an ambush here. That's the nature of this cursed pass. Tight paths, echoing cliffs, and too many places to hide."
Serra frowned. "Should we halt the advance?"
"No," Taren said calmly. "If they strike, we retaliate. Our goal is the northern gate. Once we seize that, we can push into the Sovereign's Vale."
The army pushed on, unaware that they were already being watched.
High above the cliffs, Kael crouched behind a cluster of wind-carved rocks, one hand gripping his curved saber and the other pressed to the cold stone.
His eyes scanned the valley below.
"They're moving in tighter formation than I expected," he muttered. "But that makes the blast radius more effective."
Beside him, six elite cultivators from the Ashen Blades nodded. They wore grey cloaks that blended with the mountain, each one armed with various weapons and wearing expressions of icy calm.
One of them whispered, "Orders, Commander Kael?"
Kael smirked. "We cut the snake's head. If we can scatter them before they reach the narrow bend, they'll be exposed in the open."
He reached into his spatial pouch and withdrew a rune crystal, engraved with a blood-red sigil.
"Place these along the cliff edge," he instructed. "Once they're in position, trigger them. I'll strike from the left flank. You collapse the pass."
The warriors moved like shadows.
Kael rose, stretching slightly, then summoned his spiritual energy. Crimson wind swirled around him, and the tattoos on his arms pulsed with faint energy.
> "Spirit Art: Crimson Gale Blade."
His saber hummed as he descended the slope, merging into the shadows.
---
Taren paused mid-step.
He felt it. A shift in the wind. A whisper in the leaves. His instincts—sharpened by decades of battle—screamed.
"Stop the advance," he said sharply.
Too late.
The cliffs exploded.
Dozens of rune crystals detonated in perfect sequence, unleashing waves of compressed spiritual energy. Boulders shattered, dust surged, and cultivators were thrown into the air like leaves in a storm.
Kael appeared in a flash, saber spinning in a red arc.
> "Blood Fang Crescent!"
His strike tore through three soldiers in one motion, blood spraying across the rocky path. Screams echoed as panic spread.
Ashen Blade warriors dropped from the cliffs like hawks, landing with lethal precision. One conjured a massive spectral axe and cleaved through a formation.
> "Spirit Technique: Ghost Reaper Slash!"
Another launched fire chains that wrapped around enemies and exploded in bursts of flame.
> "Inferno Bind!"
Taren recovered swiftly, shielding himself with a wall of vines.
> "Spirit Domain: Verdant Sanctuary!"
The shattered terrain around him erupted with thorned roots and towering trees. He stepped forward and raised his palm.
> "Nature's Judgment."
Green energy condensed into a spear above him and launched toward Kael.
Kael's eyes widened. He somersaulted backward as the attack slammed into the ground, leaving a crater and a blast of floral energy.
He landed hard, tumbling against a rock, then rolled to his feet.
"Damn," he muttered. "No wonder they made him a General."
A dozen of Taren's men regrouped and formed a spiritual barrier.
Kael growled, wiped blood from his lip, and surged forward.
> "Twin Fangs – Fourth Claw!"
His saber split into two glowing red trails, each one striking the barrier at different angles.
Cracks formed. Then shattered.
Kael dove into the breach, blades spinning.
---
Meanwhile, far to the east of the battlefield, Dalia flew high above the clouds. Her white robes fluttered, and her long hair streamed like silk behind her. From this height, she could see the full shape of the ambush unfolding.
"Kael's pushing too deep," she muttered. "Time to level the field."
She summoned her spiritual energy. Wind responded.
> "Storm Art: Thousand Feather Blades."
Clouds spiraled downward as thousands of thin wind blades formed around her.
She pointed toward the enemy formation.
The blades screamed through the air, slicing through trees, rock, and armour. Cultivators fell in groups, unable to resist the storm.
Below, Kael grinned as the enemies scattered in panic.
"Now that's what I call air support."
A shadow rose behind him. Taren.
> "Verdant Chains!"
Vines burst from the ground and wrapped around Kael's legs and torso.
Taren stood ten meters away, eyes narrowed.
"Who are you? Your techniques... they're old. Ancient," he said.
Kael gritted his teeth. "I'm just the blade in someone else's hand."
Taren raised both arms. The vines tightened.
Kael's bones groaned.
Then—boom!
The chains snapped as a bolt of red lightning struck them. Kael fell forward, coughing.
Taren looked up.
Aeron stood at the cliff edge.
Eyes glowing. Blade humming.
> "I'm the hand," Aeron said coldly.
Aeron leapt from the cliff, descending in a streak of crimson light. The sheer force of his landing cracked the earth beneath his feet and sent shockwaves rippling outward. Dust swirled around him like a cloak as he rose from the small crater, sword in hand.
Taren's eyes widened. "Another one?"
Aeron's presence was different from Kael's. Where Kael struck like a storm, wild and swift, Aeron stood like a fortress—unmoving, unbreakable. His Spiritual General aura blazed with the weight of experience and brute power.
> "Spirit Manifestation: Crimson Bastion!"
A shimmering red armour enveloped Aeron's form, and his blade lengthened with spiritual energy. His foot slammed into the earth, breaking the roots that held Kael in place.
Kael coughed, trying to rise. "Took you long enough…"
Aeron didn't reply. He stepped forward, swinging his blade in a wide arc.
> "Heaven-Sunder!"
The attack carved through Taren's spiritual defences, sending the older man skidding backward. Blood trickled down the side of Taren's mouth.
Behind them, the battle raged.
The Ashen Blades and the Verdant Alliance were locked in brutal combat across the ravine. Spectral beasts clashed with elemental blasts. Shields of ice cracked under strikes of thunder. Warriors screamed as fire scorched the narrow pass, turning stone red-hot.
> "Flame Shot!"
> "Earthen Wall!"
> "Sonic Pulse!"
It was a chaos of flashing lights and howling techniques.
Serra, Taren's lieutenant, fought off two Ashen Blades by herself. Her daggers were coated in spirit poison, and her movements were too fast to follow. She slashed across the chest of one enemy, ducked under a spear, and retaliated with a backhanded strike that cut the throat of the second.
She looked toward her commander and shouted, "Fall back, General! This is not a battle we can win!"
Taren staggered as another blow from Aeron landed on his shoulder, denting his spiritual armour.
Kael stood beside Aeron now, breathing hard, but ready.
"This isn't your day, old man," Kael said.
Taren looked from one to the other, and then at his scattered army. His soldiers were being pushed back. Formation broken. The path lost.
He exhaled slowly and slammed his hand to the ground.
> "Spiritual Retreat: Verdant Escape!"
The ground beneath him turned to green mist, and vines pulled him into the earth. He vanished in an instant.
Serra, seeing this, let out a sharp whistle. All Verdant Alliance warriors still standing began retreating, their bodies vanishing into shimmering leaves or dissolving into wind with escape techniques.
Within minutes, the battlefield emptied of green banners.
---
Silence returned to the pass.
The ground was littered with bodies, broken weapons, and burnt flags. The scent of blood, smoke, and scorched earth hung heavy in the air.
Kael fell to one knee, sheathing his saber.
"We held the pass," he said between breaths.
Aeron nodded. "Barely. Their general was strong."
Kael looked up at the sky. "We lost twelve of our best."
"I know," Aeron said grimly. "But we sent a message. This pass belongs to the Free Banner now."
From behind them, Dalia landed lightly, her wind still swirling faintly around her.
She surveyed the field. "This will delay them. Maybe even force the Verdant Alliance to rethink their advance."
Kael snorted. "They'll be back. Stronger next time."
"Then we'll be ready," Aeron said.
---
Far away, in a towering fortress carved into a cliffside, a man watched the battle unfold through a crystal orb. His black robes shimmered with gold trim, and a hood shadowed most of his face.
Only his silver eyes gleamed.
"So… the Free Banner dares to rise?" he said softly.
A voice behind him asked, "Shall we move against them, Lord Ryzek?"
He shook his head. "No. Let the minor empires bleed each other. When the time is right, we'll sweep through them all."
He waved a hand, and the crystal dimmed.
"The Black Thrones never rush. We conquer."